Fanatics
by Grasspaw
Summary: Bolin and Mako have a rather unfortunate encounter with a few fans one afternoon, leading to much trauma for poor Bolin.


**This came about as the result of talking with my mom about how many stars are constantly besieged by fans, which then prompted the thought, "Huh... I wonder how Bolin and Mako would fair as super-famous pro-bending stars..." Yeah, I know. I own nothing.**

Korra burst out laughing. "Are you serious? She actually said that?"

"Yes," Bolin said around his guffaws. "Then, and you won't believe this part, she screamed at the top of her lungs and _fainted._"

He and Korra were both shrieking with laughter, Korra holding her stomach and barely breathing. Mako shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"She fainted! Right there on the floor!" Bolin wheezed, leaning against a tree for support. He had been regaling Korra with tales of his insane fans while Mako washed off the grime and sweat from the power plant. The two teenagers were laughing hysterically, but Mako found the stories less than amusing. It brought back too many painful memories of running through the streets, trying to avoid the girls screaming his name.

His head whipped up and he went pale. Bolin, too, had suddenly gone stock-still in mid laugh, and Korra, sensing something was wrong, went tense.

"Bolin!" Mako hissed. "I told you not to laugh that loud in public!"

"I'm sorry!" Bolin whispered. "I just thought that they wouldn't-"

Someone screamed. All three turned their heads to the side.

"Speak of the devil..." Mako muttered. "Korra, get out of here. Bolin, you know the- AAAUGH!" He dived; a hand missed his sleeve by inches. "RUN!" he bellowed, scrambling to his feet and sprinting off in the opposite direction of Bolin. He could hear the pounding feet behind him, coupled with more screams. They were close. Too close.

They might actually get him this time, he realized with horror as someone's fingertips just brushed the edge of his shirt. The panic this thought induced gave him an extra burst of energy, allowing him to clear a nearby hedge, because he was never going to let them get him again, never, never, never...

He collapsed against a wall, shaking, gingerly taking stock of his clothing and hair to make sure he had escaped unscathed. He breathed a sigh of relief, reaching up to adjust his scarf-

The color drained from his face. The scarf. The scarf was gone. They had gotten it this time; they'd been trying for months, but he had thought that-

Wait. He had left it at home. He let out a relieved little laugh, then slowly, cautiously, he made his way back to the arena.

When he climbed the ladder up to their room, he knew immediately that something was wrong. He could see a shaking form lying on the couch, facing away from him. It was Bolin.

"Bo," he whispered, horrified, walking carefully over to his brother. He knelt in front of the couch and gently touched his brother's shoulder. "Bolin?"

Bolin whimpered and tried to press himself farther into the couch.

"Did they catch you?" he asked gently. Bolin's head moved up and down in a nod. Mako winced in sympathy and fear for his brother's mental health. The attacks could be traumatic, as he knew all too well.

He patted Bolin's shoulder comfortingly. "It's all right, Bolin." Another whimper in protest. He shook his head. "No, Bolin, it's okay, really! Whatever they did, it'll grow back, or we'll get you a new one. Okay? Come on, Bolin, look at me."

Bolin wouldn't do it. "I can never leave this arena again," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Never, never, never..."

Mako rubbed soothing circles on his brother's back. "What did they do to you?"

Bolin whispered something he couldn't understand. "What?"

"They... There were three of them. One of them had these scissors, and... and..." He whimpered again and mumbled, his voice muffled by the couch cushions, "She took my curl."

Chills crept up Mako's spine. "They... they can't do that! That's... horrible." His skin was crawling at the thought. As much as his scarf defined him, so did Bolin's little curly lock of hair that hung between his eyes. He wouldn't seem like himself without it.

"They did. I... I can't... _Look at me!_" He turned over, finally showing Mako his face, and he sucked in his breath with a sharp gasp. The damage was devastating; there was a small, quarter inch long chunk of hair where his signature curl had been; he seemed horribly incomplete without it. His round face was pale, his nose red, his eyes watery. His lips trembled.

"Bolin..." he said weakly. The teenager sat up and buried his face in his hands.

"What am I gonna _do?_" he groaned. "I can't be seen in public like this. People will stare, and point, and laugh- Oh, spirits! Korra's gonna laugh at me!"

With a groan of despair, he tried to hide in the couch cushions again, but Mako caught his shoulders. "Bolin," he said fiercely. "It'll grow back. I promise." Bolin shook his head; Mako shook his shoulders. "Look at me! _It will grow back._Until then, I'll handle your errands if you'll take on my chores. That way we'll still get everything done, and you won't have to go outside until your hair grows back. All right?"

"But Korra will..."

"Korra won't laugh," he said firmly. "I promise."

"Okay," Bolin whispered, and the next morning they were in the gym practicing. The instant Korra entered Mako pulled her off to the side.

"What happened yesterday?" she asked anxiously. "I wasn't sure if I should fight or not, but they all just went right past me. Who was that? They looked like a bunch of teenage girls-"

"They were," Mako said grimly. "Listen, Korra..." He sighed and pinched the brim of his nose. "Bolin had a very traumatic experience yesterday. You have to be really understanding about the whole thing."

Her eyes were wide. "Was it the Equalists again? I swear, those guys are _nuts_-"

"It wasn't the Equalists." He had to clear his throat a few times before he could say in a low voice, "It was our fanbase."

"Your... those were fans?" she asked desbelievingly, an incredulous smile spreading across her face. "Are you _kidding?_"

"Don't laugh," he begged her. "I think Bolin might start crying again if you do."

"He cried about it?" Korra asked, raising her eyebrows. Mako nodded grimly.

"He's been tearing up like that off and on since yesterday. Be gentle with him, okay? And don't mention his hair."

"Fine," she said, throwing her hands up. "Let's go practice."

In time, Bolin's hair did grow back, just as curly and squeal-inducing as ever, and even Korra's face lit up when she saw it for the first time in its full glory. The teenage boy strutted around outside for no reason other than to show off his new hair.

At least, until he saw the teenage girls staring at him, at which point he ducked back inside and refused to leave the building for several hours.


End file.
